


End of All Days

by astronavigatrix



Category: SMITE (Video Game)
Genre: As slow as I can make it in any case, Blood, Bloodplay, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Roughness, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-04-20 01:23:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4768283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astronavigatrix/pseuds/astronavigatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The end is near</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Closer than you think</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Life as we know</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Teeters on the brink</i>
</p><p> </p><p>She favors only those for whom war is life; his freedom is meant to bring the battle to end all battles. If the world ends, then how will her battles be remembered? </p><p>There is a chance, though, that she's looking at it all wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue- Dare to read the news

      For diplomacy, Bellona has very little tolerance. She is a goddess of action, preferring to show those around her how she intends to get things done rather than explain herself to them. She is a deity of war, not bargaining-- the closest she will ever get is hearing out the terms of an enemy surrender, and even then, she is not easily swayed into letting others live.   
  
      What is the point of fighting, if you don't come prepared to die in the process?   
  
      These are the thoughts that run through her mind as she waits for the match to begin, a mockery of a proper battle, the opponents falling beneath their blades only to rise moments later behind the safety of the walls, preparing themselves to return to the fray. Though she can appreciate the methods to prolonging their fighting, the chance to prove why she is the goddess of war, she cannot say she is well and truly satisfied with the way things are. Battle without death is meaningless, and the victories of the gods are seeming more and more shallow by the day. These thoughts are kept hidden well away, the battle-hungry warrior that makes up the majority of her always showing at the fore.   
  
      For diplomacy, Bellona has very little tolerance, and that includes things such as lying to herself; unfortunately for her, diplomacy is just another form of treachery, and there are plenty who excel at that.   
  
      None, truly, more so than Loki.  
  
      The Goddess' displeasure with their situation does not escape the Trickster God as easily as it does the others, and already he is plotting a way to use that to his advantage. Were he anyone else, he might feel a twinge of sympathy for her; come to seek glory only to find herself little more than a spectacle against those who would deem themselves her equals. He wonders how many of them think it in earnest, then wonders if they realize how wrong they are. Not even Ares can match Bellona's ferocity, her sheer love of battle-- if ever there was a deity more suited to her sphere of influence, he has certainly never met them. That earnestness will make her easy, he believes, to manipulate.   
  
      When they meet on the battlefield, he falls beneath her blade without his usual protests, and Bellona almost hesitates in bringing her sword down.  
  
      "An honor," he breathes, voice rasping, air rattling in his lungs, and her wary gaze sharpens, "to fall to one such as yourself."  
  
      Bellona grins, all fire and fury and vicious, blood-soaked  _joy_ , and brings her blade down. He meets her again not twenty minutes later, one knife in her ribs, the other at her throat, arms wrapped around her in a mockery of an embrace that might be tender, were he not drawing her blood, and goads as if continuing a conversation, "and perhaps I should be proud of this, for once."   
  
       Her response is to twist in his grasp, knives driving further into her flesh, and she breaks his wrist before his other hand finishes its job at her throat, and he knows he has her. Now, it is all a matter of drawing her in, and he has just the idea for how to do it. 


	2. Cardiac Blossom

      He intends, at first, to do nothing else than make her think him companionable. Rapport with someone like Bellona, however, is built on the battlefield, and though the match-ups are usually selected at random unless someone has a particular grievance to resolve, they somehow find themselves, more often than not, on the same team. If Bellona finds it suspicious, she does not say, but more than once Loki catches her eyes on him as their matches are announced, and barely resists throwing a wink in her direction. It is on one such occasion that he finds himself suddenly without opposition between the lanes and, hearing Bellona's vicious bellow of ' _skittering vermin!_ ' surmises easily where his quarry has gotten to. Serqet's laugh in response is not lost entirely, and he slips into the shadows without hesitation to track the battle. Certainly, he could  _help_ , but at the current stage of his plan, such overt measures might be... premature.   
  
      Making his way through the jungle is sweltering work, the thick air and vicious heat growing worse as he passes the enclave where the Fire Giant will eventually make itself known. Above him, the sun lengthens his shadow, and the realization of the time that has already been spent in the match strikes him, almost makes him linger on the thought of just how long the battle has been. Shaking his head, he lengthens his stride, pace picking up in defiance of the fatigue the passage of time might wish to force upon him, and continues his search for opposition he should have been facing long ago.   
  
      He happens upon the three of them a bit outside a tower perimeter, troops cleared, but Bellona sporting a gash in one leg speaking of Serqet's Last Breath, though the fact that Bellona still stands means that the strike was one borne of desperation rather than the venom Goddess' meticulous planning. The wounds in Serket's side and across Nemesis' arms mean that Bellona's scourge played an integral part in her not yet meeting her end and he notes that Nemesis, Bellona's previously solo opponent, seems less than pleased by Serqet's 'aid', though she takes it in stride regardless and moves to attack again. The traded blows are fast and impressive, but even wounded, Bellona is no easy target, her shield helping her shrug aside or evade attacks that might have put her at further disadvantage, though it is not without cost, the effort clearly exhausting her further. Even so, she doesn't falter, and from his vantage point, Loki admits that he is somewhat impressed with her stubbornness.   
  
"I am not," Bellona pants, grip on her sword tightening, words spit toward Serqet almost mockingly, "so easily defeated!"   
  
      Before her, her opponents share a look, then stare back at her, unimpressed, the advantage of their number dulling their attention to the direction her slow retreat is taking them. Her sword lifts, batting aside Serqet's tail with relative ease, and the Egyptian hisses in displeasure, pausing to check the spare appendage for dings. Her divided attention turns Nemesis' head to her, ire on her lips in warning, and Bellona takes the chance. In her hand, her sword becomes a flag, and too late do either of them react to her leap, the War Goddess' yell of  _Roma Invicta_ signaling their doom. From there, it's a simple enough matter-- her scourge disarms them and helps keep Serqet's tail at bay, its healing effect making the damage they'd done to her more bearable, and her hammer is the final nail in their (temporary) coffin, both goddesses disappearing in blinding flashes. Slow, clear applause causes her to whirl, ready to take on the next opponent, but instead finds Loki stepping from the jungle, daggers held between thumb and index finger, low chuckle working its way past thin lips whose corners are curved in obvious amusement.  
  
"Here I thought to be a knight in shining armor, only to find my damsel needs no such thing."  
  
      Bellona meets his amusement with her own, shaking her maul into its sword form once more, and cocks her head as the next batch of minions rounds the curve to her side, heading for the enemy tower. Dust rises in the wake of their stampeding feet, but she seems not to notice, eyes instead focused on the God before her as she considers his words. That he would think to try and rescue  _her_ is amusing enough to earn a chuckle, coupled with a warning of narrowed eyes as she lets her gaze trail from his own, down over his body and then back up, only to flicker to the daggers in his hand, one solitary brow arching as her own laugh finally spills from her lips.   
  
"Here _I_ thought direct confrontation wasn't your style."  
  
      Loki feigns affront, the hand not clutching his daggers twisting upward, splayed fingers pressing against his chest as he gives a nearly insulted gasp.    
  
"Direct? My, who said anything about direct? A knife into that scorpion's gilded carapace while she was stunned would have worked  _wonders_ ," he objects, and Bellona considers the words before conceding their truth with a slight tip of her head, shoulders rolling upward in a shrug. Though he is right, and though he is, fleetingly, on her side, she will not pause for anyone. She never has.   
  
"Then maybe you should stick close-- or just work on your timing."  
  
      It is as much advice as it is invitation, given as he last of the minions runs past, at which point she turns on her heel and dashes off with them, sword spinning in her grasp, already preparing for the next encounter. Loki considers her back, turned to him without hesitation, as if unafraid of the knife he could easily plant there for her carelessness, and considers it before slinking back into the shadows of the jungle, leaving his laugh ringing after her.  
  
      Oh, but she is much less predictable than he'd assumed.  

 

* * *

 

      Contrary to what some may believe, Bellona is no fool. Certainly she makes no pretense of being a scholar, content to spend more time with theorizing than doing, and she is assuredly no high-minded Athena, plotting every movement and possibility before it even has a chance to play out on the battlefield. What she is, however, is Goddess of War, and schemes and tactics do not escape her, nor are they beneath her. But there is little time for schemes and tactics in the middle of frenzies such as the battlefield of the Gods-- any plan made must be forged in motion, and you can only hope that whomsoever finds themselves on your side can keep up.   
  
      Outside of the battlefield, however, schemes run aplenty, and she is not so dense that she does not know when she is the target of one.   
  
      What she cannot fathom is what could possibly come of it for Loki, whose entire goal, thus far, seems to be to curry her favor without making it seem as if he is attempting to do so. He thinks her oblivious to the fact, of course, and she allows it-- it's one of the few things that really entertains her outside of the thrill of battle itself, and she looks forward to the day when she can inform him that she's known all along. For the moment, however, she is content t pretend she doesn't know he's rigging the draws to set them on teams together rather than against each other, and that she doesn't notice him from the corner of her eye as she clears lanes, peering at her from shadows whenever he gives himself the opportunity to do so. It would be amusing if it weren't also worrisome; for all that she knows better than to believe every part of a God's lore, it is no secret that Loki lives up to his without hesitation. In fact, he thrives with it, and every mistrustful look and moment of hesitation in letting slip a tidbit of information only seems to fuel him. So Bellona does none of it. She treats him as she does everyone else, save the deities of Love and Romance, whose scorn she does not seek to discourage in the slightest, and who seem to take offense from her complete lack of interest in their area of influence.   
  
"Love, my dear Bellona," Aphrodite had once cooed, coercion oozing from her every pore, "is the greatest battlefield of them all."  
  
"Then I suppose," she had replied after a moment's pause, as if reflecting upon the words as she worked polish into her shield with renewed vigor, "that it is the sole battlefield for which I am unfit. Or perhaps simply one I've long since left behind. There have been so many, after all; who can know?"  
  
      She had laughed, and resumed tending to her weapons though she had no real need of it, the motions soothing the ire that rose with every syllable Aphrodite attempted to entice her with, as the blonde Goddess had stormed off in a whirl of bubbles and dove's feathers. There was no curiosity, no wondering if the other was right, and that it was something she needed to consider. If love wanted her, then it could come and get her. In the meantime, she had more pressing matters to deal with-- like a certain God of War whose own chains she'd care to choke him with, given the opportunity. 

 

* * *

 

      Ares launches into the air, and a cloud of smoke sends Bellona stumbling back, waving her shield in front of her face to clear her vision. Before her, chains wrap around Loki's neck and  _squeeze_ , and the image dissipates into more smoke, the haze of which she can vaguely see Ares' puzzled descent through. Searching for her, no doubt, and so she makes herself known, charging forward shield-first with a roar of challenge, trapping another barrage of oncoming chains between them. So focused on her is the other God of War that he doesn't bother to wonder where the real Loki might have gone until his blade is suddenly in his back, and as he stumbles, Bellona's plunges into his chest before she knocks him free of it with a hard kick, feeling bone shatter beneath her heel as Loki slips past for the coup de grace, blade skimming across Ares' neck without an ounce of hesitation. Bellona leers at Ares as he dissolves, sent back to the Titan to respawn, and claps Loki on the back as she passes, following their forces toward the nearby tower, hammer already in hand as she goes. Without hesitation, Loki follows after, and Bellona grins and shakes her head, wondering how long it will take him to fade back into the shadows this time.   
  
      To her surprise, he doesn't drift away, keeping close to the shadows at her side, and it isn't until she hears the telltale galloping of Guan Yu's steed coming from the jungle that she realizes why. Pretending as if she doesn't hear, she continues her onslaught against the tower until the glimmer of a dagger flashes in her periphery and she takes her cue, ducking down as Guan Yu's first swing skims the top of her head as her shield comes up. Flashing forward from the shadows, Loki uses her shield as a springboard and- aided with a heave from the goddess herself- launches himself at Guan Yu's back, daggers plunging into his shoulders as they both tumble from the horse. Disarmed, Loki scrambles to his feet as Guan Yu advances, guandao held menacingly aloft, the threat of Bellona seemingly forgotten. Which is just as well, because the Goddess had struck the last hit to the tower in his distraction and the next thing he feels is the steel of her hammer crashing into his side as she spins on her heel with the force of it, putting herself between him and Loki.   
  
"Retreat," Bellona spits, shaking her weapons out into sword and shield, and without hesitation, Loki obeys to the bellow of her battle cry as she surges forward once more. He doesn't think about the relief he'd felt watching Bellona slide between him and danger, just as she doesn't stop to think of how much power she'd put into those last few swings to get to him in time.   
  
       Instead, she focuses on Guan Yu, and the ugly smile he's giving her, as if he knows something she doesn't, and as he opens his mouth to sneer something at her over their crossed weapons, she stomps down on his foot with all her might and then slams the edge of her shield into his chin, stunning him into silence (and if she happens to notice he'd bitten himself hard enough to draw blood at the hit, she can only think it his own fault) and then proceeds to run him through as her footsoldiers join in with arrows and swords far weaker than hers. In the numbers they're gathered around her, however, they are more than enough.   
  
        When victory is snatched by the final slam of her hammer against the Titan, Bellona raises both hands, clutched in tight fists, and grins ferociously at those of her teammates still standing. Most of the other gods are not so enthusiastic, exhausted as they are from a long and hard-fought battle, but Bellona doesn't care. She has won the day, no matter how little it will count for in the long run, and that is (for now) enough for her. From the corner of her eye, she catches Loki raising a lone fist in solidarity with hers, mirthfully, up by his shoulder, and her grin sharpens as she turns to lock the full weight of her stare on him. Her hands drop, one waylaid by her mouth, thumbing blood from its corner, and as she turns to pick up the sword she'd slammed into the ground in celebration of her triumph, misses how his eyes watch her lick the blood from the digit with a sharp, interested stare. 

 

* * *

 

       Well and good though the battlegrounds may be, Bellona wanders, nightly, from place to place. The Gods, for the most part, tend not to stray far from their domains when they need not do so, but Bellona's domain has always been wherever there is a fight to be had. Or, in this case, wherever happens to please her most at the moment. Tonight it's Valhalla, its halls gleaming bright, firelight in braziers and overhead in massive iron chandeliers flickering bright against the wood and rustic sensibility of the place. A tankard is trust into her hand as soon as she enters, and she raises it with a cry, echoed by a good portion of those present, who though she is not theirs, acknowledge another god of battle, knowing her to be one of their own in the way all true warriors are.  
  
"Now isn't this a surprise."   
  
     Despite the words, the tone carries not the slightest hint of being surprised. Rather, there is a sort of smugness to it, as if an expectation has been met, and Bellona only takes a long drink from the ale in her hand, unmoving until Loki slips forward from standing at her back to settling beside her, arms crossed. His appearance has put off those around them, but Bellona hardly pays it any mind, lowering her drink at last and seeing fit to incline her head in greeting.  
  
"Predictable tends to mean dead, in war," she replies, and finds a seat at an empty table, sitting so she's facing outward, legs braced wide, sword planted into the ground beside her, one elbow bracing her at the table, the other still holding her drink. "Trust me," she says, and watches him peer at her as if she's a puzzle he's trying to put together, "it won't be the last surprise you get out of me."  
  
      Something sharpens in his eyes at that, considers her carefully, as one might judge an opponent, and Loki finally seems appropriately wary when she motions beside her, where the space has been vacated at the presence of the two of them in tandem. Grabbing a drink from a passing serving girl, Loki holds it between his hands and simply eyes her for another moment, not yet moving.   
  
"What... business brings you to Valhalla, Bellona?"  
  
      Her teeth are a stark swath between the olive of her lips, and Bellona lifts her drink, smile dangerous.   
  
"No business, Loki," she reassures, grin widening as he settles beside her, at a distance he must deem acceptable, and makes it that much easier to see him stiffen briefly when she finishes--   
  
"It's all pleasure."  
  
      --and watches him choke on the ale he'd just taken a sip from. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that Fire Giant cinematic sure was something, wasn't it? Love when canon gives me more to work with.


End file.
